


Here We Die

by Grace9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grace9/pseuds/Grace9
Summary: Stories don’t always have happy endings. But this was their story, and it did have an ending...just not the one they had hoped for. Time travel fic.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Here We Die

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me some nights ago, after reading a great book called ‘They both die at the end’. I think it’s an amazing read and if you haven’t read it you should. What got me thinking was the Author’s acknowledgments in the back. I’m not going to spoil it but basically what he said was that a lot of people asked him why he spoiled the ending with the title and what he responded was really thought provoking. And his words got me pondering what it would feel like to know how it all ends. How beautiful it would be to read a story where you already know the ending because like the author mentioned the ending is in the title. And I think the author of the book ‘They both die at the end’ did an amazing job at describing this feeling. To experience the raw feelings alongside the protagonist of hoping that they survive and grasping to that hope for the entirety of the story. Thinking that maybe their is a chance of life and the whole story since the beginning was wrong. To feel these strong emotions alongside the character as they hope for survival.
> 
> Sometimes the ride of life is just that...life and hope.
> 
> Here’s to hoping!  
> Heres to chance!  
> Here’s to the magic that is life!

_“Little Alice fell_   
_d_   
_o_   
_w_   
_n_   
_the hOle,_   
_bumped her head_   
_and bruised her soul” -Lewis Carroll_

**Chapter One**

His mother used to tell him a story about a talking rabbit and a girl who cried a pool of tears. The story always confused his young mind, how can a girl cry so much to the point of almost drowning? His five year old self was convinced that the girl must have been a witch who was casting secret-underage spells, he was so convinced about this particular detail that one day he perched himself on top of the kitchen island while his mother was cooking, brought his crayons and pens out from the drawer his mum always kept them in, and drew a new story. Rewriting in his mind a different tale, even going as far to sort the lost-emotional girl into the house of eagles, because only a Ravenclaw would do half the things she had done.

That night, before bed, he showed his mum his drawings. She smiled and proceeded to snuggle underneath his blankets asking him to tell her his story. He did. He could never say no to his mum. When he finished she stayed silent, trying to process what she had heard until finally she smiled one of her famous warm smiles. She had loved his new story. The next night she surprised him by opening the book of the emotional girl and reading it, but not how he remembered it, she was adding different details. Details that he had told her the night before, details like the girl was a witch. A Ravenclaw witch. When he asked his mum why she was reading his story she just smiled. And from that night forward they changed the name of the tale. It was now called The Adventures of Alice and her Patronus the rabbit.

Immediately after his mum would close the book he would always jump up in excitement, his mother knew what he would ask, he would ask her the same question almost every night. “Can I see your animal mummy?”

She would always concede to his requests, his continuous squeals would always make her agree. Excitement would pour out from him as his mum brought her wand out, and from the end of her wand a dazzling, blinding, majestic dragon would erupt in silver light, flying across his room, wings flapping near his head before perching itself beside his mother.

He would stare in awe at his mother’s patronus, sometimes in the rare occasions that his father would arrive early from work he would also join his mother in tucking him into bed, and that’s when he would be treated to a special event of two dragons soaring across his room. Both his father’s and mother’s dragons intertwining their bodies together as they circled the room. It was like a dance. A dance that always fascinated him. Both of them so in tune to the other.

“Mummy, will my animal be a dragon too?” He would ask, silver eyes round as he looked up at his mother expectantly. When asked this question she would act like she was in deep thought, making funny faces as if overthinking his question, pulling all the theatrics for his amusement.

“Well...” she would start saying as she tucked her legs underneath herself, getting comfortable on his bed. His questions never had an end and she knew this, “your father’s Patronus is a dragon, and mine is too. So most probable my little dragon is that yours will be as well. It’s a common occurrence for families to have the same animals. Why I even know a whole family whose Patronus are felines!”

“Felines!?”

“Oh yes,” she would nod her head in earnest, snuggling closer to him, brown curls cascading down her chest. “His is a lion, and his wife’s is a lioness. Most likely all his children will be felines as well.” She would then pause and look around the room pretending to look for eavesdroppers, her voice would lower into a whisper as if they were spies trading countries secrets, “I will tell you something most people do not know, but you must promise to guard this secret okay?” He would nod his head in excitement, his mum pulling him closer, exaggerating her whispers to keep him entertained, “if you love someone with all your heart my little dragon, your Patronus will match with theirs. And you love me correct?”

“I love you this much!” He would extend his arms to their full length, trying to show his mum the biggest love he could.

“And I love you this much!” She would repeat the same gesture enveloping him in the end with her arms, tickling his cheek with her nose making him burst into giggles. “And because we love each other so much our Patronus will match. Because your heart and my heart are two halves of the same whole.”

He would keep silent. Thinking of her words. She must have understood something in his silence because she continued speaking. “Than there’s the other little fact that we’re the House of Dragons. We’re protectors my love, never forget that.”

“And what if my animal is a scorpion?”

She chuckled, “a scorpion?! Why would your Patronus be a scorpion?”

“Because that’s my name.”

She shook her head as her laughter died, “what is really worrying you my little dragon?” Her fingers would gently start combing his pale white hair from his forehead. “Are you worried you will not get a dragon as your Patronus?”

“I don’t want to be a scorpion. I want to be like you mummy.”

“You know scorpions are fearsome creatures, you should not feel sad if you get one as your Patronus, actually if I had a scorpion as my Patronus I would feel honored.” She paused, “now thinking about it I would like to change it to a scorpion.”

“Really?”

She smiled. The warm reassuring smile she was famous for. “Really. They’re small but mighty animals. One should never underestimate a scorpion. But, if you do indeed get a scorpion as a Patronus than I think my Patronus will change and become a scorpion as well. It wouldn’t be the first time it changed, my Patronus before your father used to be an otter.”

“An otter?!” He asked stunned, his mother did not seem like an otter. She was brave and fearless. She was more of a dragon.

“Don’t act so surprise, otters are loyal intelligent creatures.” She scrunched her nose, “It was also a pretty otter - very fluffy.”

His face would become serious, thinking about another obstacle in their little plan. “What about Serpens, Leo, Cygnus, and Taurus? What if each one of them is a different animal?”

She paused, tapped her finger to her chin as if she were in deep thought. “Hmm well that does seem to be quite a problem - well how about this, I will be a scorpion every Monday. Tuesday’s I will be a peacock because let’s be honest Serpens will surely be a peacock,” she would roll her eyes making him laugh. “Wednesday’s,” she would continue, “I will be a lion for our courageous Leo, Thursday’s I will be a beautiful swan for our pretty boy Cygnus.” She would move her arms, imitating a swans wings. His laughter continued on. His mum was so funny. “Friday’s I will be a bull for our strong Taurus. And Saturday’s...well Saturday’s I will be a dragon for your father.”

“And Sunday’s?”

Her brown eyes would twinkle as she said the next words. “Ah Sunday’s are the most special because Sunday’s I will be all six.”

“But mummy you can’t be all six at the same time!”

“And why ever not? My love for you six is so big that anything is possible!”

He would always remember that conversation. He would remember her soft words. Her laughter. Her silver dragon wrapping his wings around him in protection.

She died a week later.

They all died a week later.

And every Sunday afterwards he would remember the scorpion, the lion, the peacock, the swan, the dragon, and the bull.

Maybe the original story was correct. Maybe Alice was not a witch, maybe she was just a normal muggle girl. Because Sunday’s were the days he realized one did not need magic to drown in ones own tears. He would watch his father drown in them with no assistance of magic, sometimes alcohol would help speed the process. It was a common sight in the manor, watching his father stumble upon the entrance door, legs struggling to keep his balance as he slurred curses to the world as his grandmother would run to his father’s side.

And when he became older, when the Dada Professor in seventh year taught the class the Patronus charm and the wisps of a dragon’s wing appeared from the end of his wand he cried, he cried until he was sure a rabbit would appear and he would drown in a pool of tears. When he showed his father, his father could only stare at the magnificent beauty of his dragon, it was not similar to his mum’s. His mum’s dragon was brave, flew with confidence. His dragon was hesitant, careful, barely made a move without overthinking it.

He thought his father would be happy to know that they were indeed the House of Dragons, but instead he left. He left and was not seen for the entirety of a year. When he asked his grandmother why his father had left she would only shake her head, “he’s in mourning.”

“It’s been 13 years.”

She would raise her brow, “Time does not dictate a persons emotions. The heart does. And your father’s heart has yet to heal.” She would become quiet after saying this, lost in her thoughts, “they say that pain is temporary. That wounds heal. But they lie. Some wounds never heal, your father - your father is in massive pain.”

“And I’m not?”

She would only stay silent.

His father’s pain manifested itself in different ways. The most obvious being his manic episodes. Episodes that left him working till he passed out and in such bad shape that he had to be hospitalized. Episodes that would leave him mute for months at a time. Seasons changing without his father uttering one single word, his eyes void of any thought, void of any emotion that was not sadness.

His father’s pain went so deep that he could no longer conjure a Patronus like he remembered he could do when he was younger. 

He learned this when he asked him one night, a night that his father was not in such a foul mood, to cast the charm alongside him. He had been trying to remember how his mum’s dragon looked like, and hers and his father’s were so similar that he wanted to at least feel close to her, even if it was through his father.

He wanted to see her dragon one last time. He didn’t want to feel so alone.

His father only sipped his whiskey, hands shaking, eyes glazed over, it didn’t take very long for his father to stand up and leave the room.

He never asked again.

He sometimes wondered -as he would cast the Patronus charm when his Auror missions would take him near a Dementor- if Serpens, Leo, Cygnus, and Taurus would have gotten dragons as well.

He imagined himself teaching his three younger brothers how to cast it. Taurus, being the youngest of the five siblings, would be sitting on the sidewalk watching as they practiced, begging him to teach her just like he was teaching the boys, to teach her even though she was only a first year. Her white wisps of hair sticking to her face as she yelled at him for being a misogynist-sexist-git who wouldn’t teach her. He would only laugh at her dramatics.

He wondered if his mum would have been able to keep her promise. If it was really possible to have multiple Patronus. He asked Professor McGonagall once...she couldn’t give him a definite answer.

He had resigned himself to never know the answer because he would never be able to see his mum keep the promise of changing her Patronus every Sunday...but he could help her keep another promise. That was the reason why he would religiously visit the cemetery every Sunday. No matter if it snowed, hailed, rained, he would visit his family every Sunday. He could at least help keep his mum’s promise by making sure that all six of them were together that day.

His mum, Serpens, Leo, Cygnus, Taurus, and him together even in death.

Because Sunday’s, Sunday’s he finally understood. And it was disappointing that at the age of 24 he finally understood that he was wrong. Humans were indeed capable of drowning in their tears, one did not have to be a witch or wizard to do so.

Alice was indeed a muggle. He was wrong. He was so wrong.

He tried to sit straighter, his body full of pain from where it had gone cold. But the movement only brought him more pain. He winced. They say that when you die you see flashing memories. Maybe that’s why tonight he remembered the story he had rewritten when he was a child.

His eyes moved to the broken window that was letting the winter air inside. From where he sat he could see the Thames river down below being lit by the moon above. Growing up his father never let him get this close to Muggle London, it was once he graduated from Hogwarts and decided to move out and live with his godfather and away from his alcoholic father that he experienced how the Muggles lived. Everything he learned about them fascinated him, but the river, the river he never found fascinating, it’s dark waters seeming muddled and less magical than the lakes and rivers in the Wizarding world. But these were different times, the once dark muggle river had lost its color and was now red.

Bright, bloody, red.

Muggle news were confused as to what was happening. Deep down they knew what was happening but yet the muggles were grasping, trying to hold on to what they knew to be truth. Their bloodied fingers gripping tightly into what what was left of their old reality. Not wanting to believe the world they currently lived in.

A world where a secret world existed. A world that now wanted to kill them.

A world of magic.

He winced again in pain as he tried uselessly to find comfort from where his back was resting against the crumbling wall. Under the moonlight, the river seemed to be dying, blood bleeding into the untouched snow covering the pavement. The same pavement that he would walk to get to the park where he would have lunch with his friends, laughter enveloping them as they ate from the deli down the street.

His eyes were glued to this new scene so different from what he remembered. He wished his mother was beside him. He wished his mother could comfort him. He was going to die a cold winter night surrounded by death. He wished he could close his eyes and forget the scene that was in front of him. He wanted to forget the image of the bloodied river that was surrounding the collapsing building he had seek’d refuge in.

He wanted to forget that in some minutes the building would be overrun with dementors and death eaters. He wanted to forget and for now be engulfed by the the gruesome beauty that came from the silence of the night. The way the bustling city of London had stoped. How the magical ash had covered the buildings making the world go gray. How the moon stood high in the sky witnessing what the world had been reduced to.

And the moon wept at what she saw. It’s tears falling down to earth in the form of snow. If he could only reach the window, reach outside and touch the snowflakes that were falling. He wanted to touch something pure one last time.

He wanted to remember something good before he died. He wanted to remember winter days in Hogsmeade, he wanted to remember the smell of cinnamon and pine. He wanted to remember laughter and a woman’s voice reading him to sleep the night before Christmas, wrapping him in her arms beside the fireplace. He wanted to remember the dragon flying high above him, it’s wings barely touching his twinkling star covered ceiling. Constellations drawn for each of his family members. He wanted to remember children’s laughter.

He wanted to remember Sunday’s.

He opened his eyes to his reality, the untouched snow preserving the frozen scene, as if the whole world had stopped, and all that had been left was this moment.

His eyes moved again to the scene that he could not erase from his mind, to a dark haired little girl that could be no older than five, she was still wearing her school uniform, body curled in the ground, head tucked underneath the arm of a woman who was no older than him. As if they had found a safe spot to rest and were now sleeping soundly. Snow covering there bodies in a gentle hug. It was the blood dripping from their heads and into the cold ground that broke the peaceful scene.

They had died there.

He closed his eyes tight.

There were bodies lined up all alongside the river. Bodies of children all around the same age of the little girl. Boys and girls all under the age of five.

It was a warning.

A threat to the muggles of what was to come. Some bodies were killed out in the open, others were floating in the river. Those unfortunate bodies that were floating seemed to be the bodies of older children, death by water seemed to have been saved for those closer to the age of eleven. Their blood turning the water bright red. While the bodies on the ground seemed to be of smaller children, some appearing to be bodies of toddlers, their baby fingers gripping tightly their parents frozen thumbs.

They were children. Babies. Some to young to even speak, others appearing like they had just learned how to crawl. Bodies of children and babies to young to even realize why they were being massacred. To young to understand that in the future they would have received a letter.

A letter welcoming them into a special school.

A school where anything was possible.

A letter welcoming them into a world of magic.

He looked at the sleeping little girl, he wondered what house she would have been sorted into, seeing how her hair was covered in small glittery plastic flowers he imagines she would have been a Hufflepuff. He imagines she would have jumped in excitement the first time she saw Hogwarts. Herbology would have been her favorite class. He can even imagine her writing to her muggle mother who currently laid dead beside her in the snow, telling her all about the magical Wizarding world.

But that would never happen now.

He breathed in. He wondered how they reacted when they were being murdered, did they think it all a nightmare? A nightmare that they would wake up from? They must have thought it all a dream, seeing improbable things, seeing creatures floating, men with wands, spells being cast, seeing things that they had heard all their lives could not exist. This child being shoved into a world of magic for some seconds just to be killed by it.

But the children in the river, those children that were floating beside their muggle parents. Muggle humans that were being punished and killed for no other reason than for having birthed magical children. He wonders if those older confused children fought back, if accidental magic erupted from their hands as they fought to protect their muggle parents.

His eyes burned, those children had died just as he was going to die. He tried to breathe, if the dementors didn’t kill him he was going to die by lack of oxygen. His fingers gently went to his side, softly touching the metal rod that was protruding from his hip. The rod that was making it impossible for him to breathe. To walk. To move to safety.

He winced in pain.

He was going to die.

He closed his eyes and counted between his breathes like they had taught him in Auror training. But even that was beginning to become useless.

In the short 24 years he had lived, he had been shot, cursed, hexed, and beaten to a pulp. But nothing could compare to what he felt now. Back than he had hope that the pain would stop, knew that with a potion or a trip to St. Mungo’s everything would be better. But now...now he knew that when he stopped being in pain it would mean he had died.

He blinked back tears. He could not cry now, his grandmother always told him to be brave, but it was hard being brave when death was staring you in the face with a knowing smile and a welcoming outstretched hand.

He was going to die and he was scarred. He wanted his mother, he wanted her soft reassuring whispers in his ear telling him that everything was going to be alright. He wanted the feeling of safety she could easily give him with only a hug.

His father never spoke about her, guilt making him erase her from his memories. But sometimes when he was drunk details of his mother would escape his fathers lips. “She smelled of books,” his father once told him pissed drunk, a pained look crossing his face. “Books and parchment. Honeysuckle and vanilla.”

So that’s what he tried to remember when he felt like giving up, he tried to imagine her smell enveloping him, protecting him from the world. That’s the smell he wanted to remember while he died. He wanted to smell his mum, imagine his mum beside him, hugging him as he passed away.

A round of coughs attacked his body, making blood drop from his lips.

A second didn’t even pass before a hand was cleaning him up, a sleeve of what use to be an Auror uniform softly wiping the blood away from his mouth.

“Try not to move.” Albus quietly spoke, body pressed against his.

Scorpius wanted to tell him he couldn’t even move, and even if he could the pain wouldn’t let him, but the only thing he could muster was a shadow of a smile that was full of pain as he tilted his head to stare at his friend. Albus Severus Potter was never one to worry about his appearance but this was low even for his standards. His messy black hair was sticking in clumps to his sweaty forehead, face smudged in blood and dirt, his lips pulled into a tight frown, green eyes full of fear and determination as they jumped from him to the window.

Scorpius breathed in, trying to gather enough oxygen to speak the next words. “Trying to figure out if the jump would kill us?” He asked trying to smile.

Al frowned, “shut up Scorpius. Stop being such a git.” If Scorpius was healthy this would be the time that Al would push him. Al never really had time for idiots. In another life Scorpius could have pictured Al as an eagle, wearing during his time in Hogwarts the blue robes of the Ravenclaw’s.

But Scorpius knew that what he asked Al was the truth. Al was contemplating death by suicide. It was their only exit. Even Scorpius himself had thought deeply about this. It would be a quick death. They were in the eighth story. The jump would kill them. It would be better to die by jumping than by dementors.

It would be an honor to die by Albus Severus Potter side. Al. His best friend. His Auror partner. His brother.

“Death wouldn’t be that bad.” He let Al know. He imagined it would feel like going into a deep sleep. The little girl down below looked peaceful enough. And he would stop hurting. The pain would be gone. He smiled as a thought came into mind. “We wouldn’t die alone, we would walk side by side to whatever comes after this. Bring hell to wherever we’re sent.”

Al quirked a brow “Whoever said I wanted to die by your side Malfoy? Didn’t I suffer enough protecting your pale arse for almost 14 years that I have to suffer eternity by your side?”

His tone was angry with sadness tinged into it. And when Al was angry his posh accent came out in full force. He was everything his Potter ancestors had despised, posh, Slytherin, and best friends with a Malfoy. He wondered if Al’s ancestors would welcome him in death. He wondered how James Potter Sr. would react at having such a grandson.

“But...” Al said carefully, “if it comes down to it I’d rather explode my magical core and take down as many dementors as I can, if I die they fucking will too.” He looked down at his hands, bending his fingers as if he was just noticing them. “Plus, it will feel nice to experience magic one last time. To remember how it felt like to flick our wands and magic burst out of them.”

Scorpius raised a brow, “I’m pretty sure that’s the same thing as suicide Potter.”

Al frowned, “shut up Malfoy.”

They fell into silence, “What do you think comes after death?” He asked his friend after a moment, resting his head against his shoulder. Was there life after death? If so would he be able to see his mum again? Would she remember him?

“You don’t have to worry about that, we’re still young.”

He shook his head, “I’m going to die Al.”

Al’s brows furrowed, nose flared. Now Al was really angry, angry that Scorpius had given up so quickly and accepted his fate.

“Don’t be stupid Scorp,” Al chastised him. “You’re not dying.” He looked towards the door, “they will come and save us. So stop being such a melodramatic queen, you’re starting to sound like your father.”

Scorpius gave Albus a weak smile. Albus lied. But at least he was a good liar. He could almost believe his sweet lies. He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re a perfect Slytherin Potter.”

His friend frowned. Being a Slytherin was always a delicate subject for Al, always thinking he would never live up to his father’s legacy. Living under the shadow of Harry Potter was something Scorpius would not wish upon anyone, sometimes he thought being the son of an ex death eater was better than being the son of the chosen one.

His body shook as a cold wave rocked him again. He was cold. So cold. Part of him knew that the winter air had to do with his shivers but he knew the real reason. Knew why even with Al’s body heat beside him he couldn’t get warm. Blood loss. He was cold because of the blood loss.

Al’s eyes went wide. Finally seeing that Scorpius was not lying or exaggerating when he said he was going to die. Fear was written all over Al’s face. He was scared. For him. For the shit of a world they had the misfortune of living in. For their family who still had yet to arrive.

“The plan will work, you just have to...” Al looked everywhere as a child trying to find a solution. Their was no solution. They were going to die. Their families were probably already dead. “You just have to stop moving so much.” He finally said.

“You think I want to be convulsing?”

Before Al could respond a scream pierced the room. Al immediately looked towards the window, ears perked up. Scorpius was well aware he was trying to see if the scream he just heard belonged to one of his family members.

It wasn’t. It belonged to a child. A child who sounded to be around six.

Al’s shoulders slumped down, the tension his body was holding finally releasing, as a breath of relief escaped his lips.

This was the world they currently lived in. A world where one would feel relief that a six year old child was being murdered. Relief because that meant Al’s family was not the one screaming.

Scorpius felt disgusted.

Al looked at him, red eyes filled with worry, a second away from crying. “Do you - do you think my family is safe?”

He didn’t want to tell him the truth, the truth that he thought his family was dead. The Potter’s were high in the list of families that were suppose to be exterminated. He was more surprised that they had survived all these months with only one casualty. But that’s what a father’s love does and a mother’s angry determination.

Back in sixth year the divination Professor told Al and him that they were both cursed. Cursed to die young. “Tragic death,” were her exact words. When she looked at Scorpius she began to sob. “And you my dear. Betrayal and loss. Dying by the hands of those you love.”

Al later told him that she had told his siblings the same thing. “Father cursed us the day he gave us our names.” He would say, “bloody cursed us!”

The odds that Al’s siblings were alive were slim. So he lied. He lied to his friend. Better to die with a lie of hope than with the tragic truth. “You’re Potter’s. You’re survivors.” He whispered painfully. “Voldemort tried to kill your dad how many times? And he never did succeed.”

Al’s face fell, “until he did.”

Silence. “Well this is the first time he’s trying to kill you and your siblings, so technically he has to try various more times to succeed.”

Al nodded still looking at the door, waiting for his siblings and mother to arrive safely. Scorpius didn’t have anyone to worry about.

Not anymore.

The only people he cared about were his grandparents, his godfather and Al, and his grandfather had already died six months ago, he was the first death that marked the beginning of the Second Wizarding war.

Harry Potter’s death was the second.

Voldemort had learned. Learned from his previous experiences to kill the heads first. To kill the powerful Wizards, then to move on to the weaker ones when no one was left to protect them.

His godfather had died a month ago. He died protecting him from a group of death eaters.

His grandmother’s death had been recent, just this morning. He had yet to process her death, his mind could not yet believe it. Part of him still looked towards the door expecting her to barge in with all her Malfoy elegance and tell him everything was going to be alright.

She had died for him.

He had yet to shed a tear.

He was a monster. The Gryffindors that had bullied him for the sole reason of his Malfoy blood were probably right. He was evil.

His bloodline was evil.

Maybe everyone was right and he was cursed since birth.

He was going to die at the age of 24 without ever redeeming the Malfoy name. Without making his mother proud. Without finding someone to love him. Aside from his grandparents, his godfather, Al, and maybe sometimes Rose -when she was in a good mood and decided to take pity on him- who had ever loved him?

Maybe everyone was right and he was unlovable. Maybe the Malfoy blood deserved to die with him. Nothing good had ever come from a Malfoy.

The building shook again, white light illuminating the room. In those seconds he could see the true damage Al had taken, his face was covered in scars, an open gash was bleeding red across his face, to close to his eye for his liking, his black hair had turned gray from the concrete dust that had fallen from the cathedral ceiling.

They could have fixed Al’s face long ago, they could have even shielded themselves from the concrete that was falling every time the building shook, but Magic was useless now. Their wands were more useful as firewood than for protection.

They couldn’t apparate. They couldn’t even use the floo.

They lived in a world where magic had disappeared.

The only way to use magic was by exploding one’s magical cores. He had seen multiple Aurors do this. Had seen them take down legions of dementors with the last minutes of magic their core gave them.

Death by suicide.

“Are you okay?” Al asked, concerned eyes looking at the rod sticking from Scorpius side, trying to estimate how much blood Scorpius had lost.

Scorpius Lucius Malfoy was not okay. His family was dead. His friends were dead. His whole word had come tumbling down like the muggle story his mother use to tell him when he was younger about the three little pigs. The big bad wolf was currently outside huffing and puffing trying to bring it all down. Trying to keep the promise he had made to Scorpius grandfather of ending the Malfoy bloodline.

And the only thing Scorpius could do was sit here in hiding, listening to little kids scream for mercy.

He wanted to die.

He squeezed his eyes tight. He wanted to die. He wanted to join his grandparents in death. He wanted to hug his godfather and tell him how much he loved him, tell him that he wished he had been his biological father. He wanted to see his mother again even if his only means would be by dying. He wanted to know if she really smelled like books and honeysuckle.

Many bloodlines had already ended. The Malfoy’s would be no different. Why should snakes stay alive when almost all lions had gone extinct?

The Weasley’s had all but disappeared, a family of 25 was now a family of just two. Rose had died. Rose. The only girl who had ever seen good in him. The only girl he had ever loved.

He opened his eyes, Al was still there, he was still waiting for an answer.

“I’m alive.” He finally answered. Because he might feel like he was dead but he was alive. Al’s mother had made sure to keep them all safe and alive these past months. But this was the end. They all knew it. The muggle world had fallen. The Wizarding world was almost decimated, one could not fight against beings that could not die, and most importantly how could one fight without magic?

“Hey, look at me.” Al’s voice said with command, long gone were his sarcastic jokes and nerdy ways.

Another wave of cold hit Scorpius body and his eyes started to feel heavy. He just needed to sleep. Sleep was the answer. Al’s voice began to fade.

Scorpius remembered the first time he met Al. Scorpius had been hiding in the bathroom train, hiding from bullies who had learned he was a Malfoy. It seemed he did not do such a great job of hiding since the bullies found him easily, they ripped his robe trying to find the dark mark they swore he was hiding on his arm, when they found no mark they brought their wands out and proceeded to give him a “temporary tattoo”.

“So you can match your daddy.” They had said.

That’s how Albus Severus Potter found Scorpius Lucius Malfoy, crying over the sink with torn robes as he scrubbed his tattooed arm till it began to turn red, trying to erase the death eater mark the boys had given him. His arm moments away from bleeding. Scorpius Malfoy crying as older Gryffindor boys laughed.

Al stood for some seconds before immediately retrieving his wand from his pocket, waving it around and threatening the older boys to leave Scorpius alone. Looking one dead in the eyes and saying he would tell Mrs.Potter what he had done. He would later find out that the boy Al had threaten was James Sirius Potter. Al’s older brother.

When the older boys had left Al didn’t say anything. He kept quiet. Instead he offered him his hand, helping him get to his feet and guided him to his own train compartment.

“That’s my oldest brother Teddy. He’s not a git like James.” He said pointing to a blue haired boy surrounded by a group of older teenagers. “He’s a fourth year and a Hufflepuff. He’ll keep us safe.”

The blue haired boy didn’t even eye him suspiciously instead he smiled at him genuinely. Didn’t even blink when he said his family name.

Scorpius had heard of the famous Harry Potter, who hadn’t? He also knew enough about Harry Potter to know that anyone with the surname Potter should hate a person with the surname Malfoy. But here were these two Potter boys extending their friendship to him.

He wondered if Al was aware of how much that kind act had meant to him. If he was aware how much his friendship meant to Scorpius. 

His friendship made living worth it.

“Look at me Scorp. Please look at me.” Al begged, his voice scratchy and broken. He opened his eyes, only to find Al with tears running down his face, eyes bloodshot. “Please don’t ever scare me like that you fucking dragon.” He finally breathed. Throwing his arms around his shoulders being careful with the rod sticking out of him.

“What happened?” His voice cracked, he could taste the coppery taste of his own blood.

“You passed out.”

He tried to breathe, it took him a moment to learn how to breathe again. To learn how to move his chest in a way he didn’t feel like dying.

“I’m tiered.” He finally said, “so bloody tiered.” He just wanted to get death over with. He was tiered of fighting. Tiered of trying to stay alive. He was dying. He was cold, he was in pain, his lips were chapped, his body was slowly shutting down and his vision was blurry...and it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his thoughts straight.

He wanted his mum.

“You just have to hold on for a few more minutes.” Al said trying to center him to his voice, to reality. “We are going to survive. _You_ are going to survive.”

He wanted to believe him. But he knew it was all lies. Even if they survived by some miracle, there was no way they could escape unharmed from the building. They were surrounded, going against death eaters and dementors without magic.

“Lovegood’s plan will work.” Al continued his voice soft for his sake, as if he was reading him a muggle bedtime story. “She just needs a little more time.”

Lovegood’s plan. The plan that the whole Wizarding world depended on.

“She’s a Ravenclaw you know, they’re mad clever. If anyone can fix this she can with that big Ravenclaw brain of hers. I should know I’ve lived with a Ravenclaw my entire life.”

Al was talking about his younger sister Lily. Images of the red headed Ravenclaw girl exploded in Scorpius mind. The girl was always curled in the sofa every time he would visit Potter Manor, book in hand, lost in her thoughts. He remembered the cupcakes she would bake and leave at the Aurors office for her older brothers, her weird fascination with muggle stories and movies. The way Mrs.Potter would click her tongue Lily’s way every time the red headed girl said something odd. Which was most of the time. The look that crossed Mr.Potter and Mrs.Potter’s eyes when they looked at each other when she was going off in rambles about potions and languages they did not understand, questioning how they could have ever birthed such a child.

And than she’s there.

In front of him.

When did she get here?

They must have been here for a while because Al doesn’t even blink.

Messy short red hair and bright green eyes stared back at him with tears pooling inside of them. The other Potter girl stood beside her, face green as if she wanted to vomit just by the sight of him.

They were alive. Al’s family was alive. His mouth broke in a smile.

“Don’t touch him Lily.” Al said as she reached to touch his cheek.

He had always found Lily to be weird, always following Teddy around, Al always mentioned that his parents were always worrying about her questionable friends. But he didn’t see why they worried so much, she had befriended outcasts just like her. Harry Potter always urged his children to befriend Ronald Weasley’s children or at least George or Bill Weasley’s children. Teddy befriended Victorie Weasley, James and Albus befriended Rose Weasley.

Lily never liked Hugo Weasley even though they were the same age, but she listened to her father and befriended a Weasley...just the wrong Weasley.

That’s how Harry Potter was stuck with Percy Weasley every weekend watching their daughters create potions. Scorpius always did find that particular story funny.

“Luna how much longer?” The voice of Mrs.Potter echoed through the room.

His sight is blurry but he can make out the silhouette of Mrs.Potter close to the shattered window watching what’s happening on the ground. She’s surrounded by the rest of the adults, he can spot a red headed man beside her, the last surviving member of the original golden trio.

When did they all arrive?

“Ten more minutes!” The blonde responds from where she’s hunched over a table.

“We don’t have ten minutes! They’re coming!”

He tries to keep his eyes open, he spots Al’s siblings beside their mother. Teddys blue hair having changed to black. He looks like Harry Potter. He wonders if he is aware that he has changed his appearance to mimic his adoptive father’s.

He spots Al standing beside his little sister, he can’t remember her name, what is her name?...his brain is a mess.

When did Al leave his side?

He closes his eyes, resting his back against a strong body. Fingers combing gently his white hair. The person holding him is crying. Their tears dampening his shirt.

“Please stay awake.” A male voice whispers. “Please stay awake. Please - please stay awake. Merlin I beg you save him.” It’s a mantra. A prayer. A supplication that the man is repeating over and over as if trying to manifest Scorpius survival into truth.

“Just a few more minutes and everything will be fine.”

He knows the voice. Has heard it since he was born. Has heard his drunken shouts, his angry tirades, his cries of pain every time he thinks Scorpius is not listening. Has followed him secretly as he visited Scorpius mother’s grave, has seen him weep on top of her tombstone. Has seen this man touch the little animal charms dangling from the bracelet he always wore every time he felt like he was going to fall into a manic episode. Shaking fingers gently touching the Serpent, Lion, Swan, Bull, and Otter charms.

Scorpius voice is raspy, barely functioning but he must speak to his father. Must ask him questions he’s never dared to ask. If not now than when?

“Tell me - tell me about her?” He asks. Scorpius does not need to clarify who _her_ is. They both know who he’s referring to.

His father fingers stop from where he was combing Scorpius white hair away from his sweaty and bloodied forehead. “She...” he pauses, his father had never spoken about her to him. His grandmother used to tell him that it was painful to do so, the information Scorpius has about his mother came from tales told by his grandparents. Stories learned from history books. Never from the mouth of the man who claimed to love her.

“She punched me once, broke my nose.” His fathers head moves to his side, Scorpius can now clearly see him. His robe is covered in blood, dry and fresh, his pale face smothered with dirt and mud, his hair that was once platinum blonde was now white as snow, age had not been kind to his father. He was aging fast, at 45 Draco Malfoy looked to be nearing sixty. His grandmother said that alcohol and pain did that to people.

“You probably deserved it.” He grunts in pain.

Scorpius Malfoy has always hated his father, hated the fact that his mother had died and the sorry excuse of a father was what he had been left with. He had asked himself in numerous occasions what had even attracted his mother to his father. Scorpius father had zero redeeming qualities in his eyes.

He knew from history books that his mother was a war hero. The reason why the first Wizarding war had been won. Her name carried respect, honor, and admiration in the Wizarding world. She was a fighter for equal rights, a woman of high morals and principles. She was righteous and moral coded in every single way.

His father was an alcoholic who was addicted to work and sex. An ex death eater who to this day still put his own safety above anyone else’s. His moral code was money and power. And nothing else.

Their were rumors circulating, rumors Scorpius always avoided when he went to Hogwarts, rumors that said that his father had raped his mother. Because their was no other explanation as to why a war hero would procreate with an ex death eater. As he grew up he started to believe these rumors, and that’s when the hatred towards his father grew, it grew until it consumed him. Until he could not even look upon his fathers eyes without feeling disgusted, couldn’t even accidentally brush his skin without wincing.

Al was the one who would always tell him to ignore these rumors. “You’re not a product of rape.” Al would tell him every time a classmate would joke around and asked Scorpius how it felt to be a rape baby, asked him if his mother vomited every time he saw his face because he looked like her rapist.

But the years went by and Scorpius could never get that little voice out of his head that whispered that maybe these rumors had some truth to them.

“I asked my father, he says that your mother genuinely loved your father,” Al once told him in sixth year after the rumors had gotten out of hand.

“And yet Mr. Potter also believes that my father exploited the love my mother had for him for his own gain. To clean the Malfoy name. For his companies to become more lucrative by associating the name of a war heroine with the name Malfoy. A manipulative snake is what I believe your father calls mine.”

Al would shrug his shoulders, already used to these arguments. “I never said your father was innocent of sin. Just that my father says that he’s innocent of _that_ particular sin.”

But those were by far the tamest of the rumors that circulated around his family. Their was one rumor he believed. One rumor that had been proven to be correct when he read the closed court files. The files he read immediately after becoming an Auror. Even Harry Potter believed this particular rumor to be true.

He looked at his father, he felt disgusted that he looked so similar to him. Platinum hair, silver eyes, the same face structure. He wished he looked like his mother, but instead he had to look like the monster who had sired him.

His father’s eyes were currently red, he had been crying.

Scorpius hated him.

Hated him with his entire life.

“You killed them didn’t you?” he finally asked the question that had eaten up his insides. Consumed his thoughts and destroyed his trust in others.

“His father killed his mother.” Students would point and whisper when he walked by the corridors of Hogwarts.

“She was going to divorce him.”

“She learned his secret...”

“...they found him covered in her blood.”

“Wanted her gone...”

“Only married her to clean the Malfoy name...”

“Poor boy.”

“…Killed the rest of his heirs. Couldn’t kill Scorpius though...”

“...his father wants to marry a pure blooded witch that way he can sire a pure blooded heir. The Malfoy’s do not want a half blood corrupting their bloodline. And they especially do not want to leave their fortune to the son of a muggle born witch.”

“My father says that the Malfoy’s are going to kill Scorpius once they have a pure blooded heir...”

But his father never remarried. Never had another son. It was just him and Scorpius living in hell.

His father stayed silent for the longest of time, eyes far away. When he finally spoke his voice was hoarse, “if making me the villain will make you feel better than so be it. I’ve already had to live these past 19 years of my life filled with guilt. I don’t want to fight with you son, not tonight. Not right now.”

Scorpius looked down. He didn’t believe that his father had purposely killed his siblings, if he did it was by accident. He had seen how his father would come drunk -and possibly drugged- every time the birthday of his brothers came around. How he would light up a lone-single-candle, whispering a happy birthday to a small cupcake. How he would sometimes gently hold in his hands a small pink baby dress he hid deep inside a drawer in a box. How he would cry until he would lie comatose on the floor. How his grandmother would rock his father as if he were a child when he fell into one of his episodes.

But Scorpius Malfoy did believe Draco Malfoy had killed his mother. He had seen his fathers violent outbursts. Had seen how his grandmother could not even control him when this happened. How he would yell obscenities towards Scorpius. Scream that he wished Scorpius had died. Scream for him to pack his stuff and leave.

Scream for him to just die.

His eyes burned. He didn’t want his fathers fingers soothing him, as if they were friends. As if they were father and son. As if they loved each other. He didn’t want him touching him. But he had no energy left to fight. He couldn’t even speak.

He did not want to die in Draco Malfoy’s arms. He wanted his mum. He wanted to see the dragon. The dragon flying between constellations. He wanted to see Serpens, Leo, Cygnus, and Taurus. He wanted to see them one last time.

Another round of coughs attacked his body, this time blood gurgling out of his mouth.

“No. No. No, no no no no.” His father cried. Trying frantically and hopelessly to wipe the pool of blood that had formed inside his mouth. “Hey, hey don’t go to sleep. Please don’t close your eyes. Look at me Scorpius. Fucking Salazar just look at me Scorp!”

His eyes were slowly closing. He was cold, tiered. He was in pain. But his father holds him, begging him to keep himself awake.

“LUNA! HURRY THOSE FUCKING FINGERS!” His father screamed desperately. Arms around him, gently rocking him pleading to any god who could hear him to keep him alive.

“I’m hurrying! Cursing and screaming at me Draco will not help at all!” The blonde yelled back, he could see her sons, the twins, beside her. Lily was to her right, all three teenagers surrounded the petite Ravenclaw. Passing her different jars and equipment when she extended her hands. Delicate pale fingers working fast trying to make the time turner work.

The time turner that would be their only way of surviving.

“I can’t go back with you.” His grandmother had told him yesterday. “None of us can. Running into our younger selves would be to much of a risk. But you,” she said grabbing his hands, squeezing them tight. Eyes imploring him to leave her behind. To leave behind the only mother he had known. “You must survive my love.”

He coughs. The intensity making his eyes open wide.

“Please don’t pass out again. Just hold on for some minutes,” his father whispers. “Just a few more minutes and you will be safe. Just hang on.”

He cannot hold on. He will die in the next minutes, of that Scorpius Lucius Malfoy is sure. He can feel his left arm become numb, his muscles become rigid. And he’s in pain. So much pain.

“Do you want to hear something beautiful Scorp?” His father asks trying to contain his tears. Trying to distract him from his pain. To distract him from feeling as his organs began to slowly shut off. “If you hold on for a few more minutes you will be able to see your mum again. She’ll be young. Younger than you. Barely sixteen. Wouldn’t you like to see her?”

He would. He would love to see his mum again. Even if she would not be aware of who he was. Even if she was eight years younger than he was currently. He wanted to know if she smelled like honeysuckle. If she truly smelled like books and parchment. He wanted to meet the woman who protected him, who gave her life for him. The woman who had only met him for five years but still loved him more than anyone had ever loved him.

The building trembled. A part of the ceiling abruptly falling by the sheer force of the attack.

“LUNA!” Mrs. Potter screamed, arms protectively around her children, shielding them from the falling debris with her body. She was every bit of the Lioness that his mother had said she was. In Mrs. Potter’s eyes even 27 year old Teddy was a little cub who needed to be protected. The metamorphmagus was currently being pushed by his adoptive mother to a safer corner of the room.

“SEVEN MORE MINUTES POTTER!!”

Seven minutes. He had to stay awake for seven more minutes and he would be able to see his mum.

“But remember Scorpius,” his fathers voice was raspy and on the verge of completely falling again in those holes his father usually found himself in. “You must not tell your mum our plan. You must not tell her who you are.”

He knew the plan. Knew that they could not reveal themselves. He could not even be close to his mum. “It would be dangerous.” His father said. He couldn’t even tell his grandparents who he was once he went back. Mrs. Potter had drilled that into his head. Had repeated to him countless of times how once he went back he could not trust his grandparents nor his father.

“If your mum dies. You die. If she lives, you live.” His father kept saying, he too trying to drill into his head not to involve his mum in their mission. “Your mum would do anything to protect you...”

Even die for him. That’s what his father wanted to say.

Scorpius opened his mouth, his voice barely audible. The metal rod digging deeper as he said each word, causing him to feel like dying as he uttered each syllable. But he needed his father to hear his words. Needed him to be in pain. “I’m going to tell her.” Scorpius slowly said, breathing through the pain.“I’m going to tell her how you treated me.”

He was going to tell his mum everything.

He would tell his mum how his father would push him out of the way whenever he saw him. He would tell his mum of how eight year old Scorpius would hide in his grandparents room whenever his father would arrive home from work, begging his grandmother to not tell him where he was. Small body curled in his grandmothers dresser, eyes shut as he waited for his father to leave again. To fearful of what his father might say to him that day.

He was just a little boy who had lost his siblings and his mother, a little boy who did not understand why his father would wish that he had died that night. He would tell his mum of how when he was a child he believed his father’s words to the point of questioning why he was alive, and believed that maybe his father was right and it would be better if he were just dead.

He would tell his mum of how his drunk father once pushed him one night, making him crash against a mirror, cutting his forehead open. He would tell his mum that after that accident he would stare at his reflection in the mirror, opening the wound over and over again because he felt he deserved it for being alive while his family was dead.

He would tell his mum of how his father kept him locked inside the manor from the age of five until he left for Hogwarts. He would tell her how his father screamed at his grandmother one day when he was ten because she had taken him with her in a grocery trip.

It was the first time he had left the manor in five years.

He would tell her how the bright lights of the store gave him a headache, and made him vomit all over a wizard’s shoes because he was not used to so much brightness. He would tell his mum that before that day he did not know that so many humans existed.

He would tell her how he would read ‘Hogwarts a History’ each night before bed and imagined himself in the school. He would imagine himself having friends, he would tell her how he practiced in front of the mirror for when he met other children in his first train ride to Hogwarts. He would tell her that when he turned eleven he bought different chocolates to give away in the train. He would tell his mum how instead of being welcomed he was shunned, how everyone hated him and called him names because of his family name. How the other children tore his robes, hexed him, and made him bleed just because he was a Malfoy.

But what he really wanted to ask her was why she left him? Why did she save him instead of the rest of his siblings? What made him special? What made her decide to choose his life over Serpens, Leo’s, Cygnus, or Taurus? Why did she save _him_?

Why did she leave him behind with that monster?

He met his father’s silver unresponsive eyes. He hated this man. Hated him like he had never hated another person. “I’m going to tell her to leave you. To never even marry you.” Scorpius voice was cold, full of anger and rage.

He would warn his mum that marrying his father would only bring her pain. He would warn her that Draco Malfoy never loved her and never would. Warn her that Draco Malfoy only wanted to use her to clean his family name. Whatever lies his father told her to get her to fall in love with him were just that...lies.

His father sighed, eyes fixed to the side of Scorpius abdomen. Staring at the object that was slowly killing his son. “Okay.” He finally breathed.

Scorpius jaw tightened.

His father noticed his anger and softly spoke. Voice resigned. “When the war is over you can tell her whatever you wish. Warn her about me. Warn her to never fall in love with me. Warn her that I’m a Malfoy and always will be. Tell her that I’m not a good man. Warn her Scorpius to keep away from me.” He looked away, that’s when he noticed the tears falling from his father’s eyes. The pain in his voice palpable. “As long as your mum and you are safe nothing else matters. As long as she and you are alive I will be happy. I will give everything away for just a slim chance that your mum, Serpens, Leo, Cygnus, and Taurus survive. For my children to be alive, for all my children to–“ his father’s voice broke, his shoulders beginning to shake as he tried to breathe between his cries. He tried to stifle his sobs, to reign in and push back his pain. To hide away from him like he always had.

“I have loved your mother since I was 13, and I will continue to love her until my last dying breath. And - and I love you Scorpius, I have always loved you. You’re the only thing I have left of her. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that...” he closed his eyes.

“I hate you.”

His father sadly nodded, grief registering in his pale face. A thin face marked with scars looked down at Scorpius the way he had always wanted his father to look at him. With eyes full of love. Love for the only family he had left. And for that silver of a second Scorpius believed that maybe his father did love him, maybe in the past, maybe when his mum was still alive, but he had loved him. And for the first time in a long time he saw his fathers cold dead heart beat. Scorpius had hurt his father with his words. And his father could see it in his eyes that Scorpius truly hated him.

“I deserve that.” His father finally said. “I deserve your hatred. I deserve you’re mum to hate me for all of eternity.”

Scorpius breathed in through the pain. He’s dying but he wants to unleash all the emotions and thoughts he could never express when he was younger. He wants his father to feel pain. To feel what he had felt for the past 19 years. “I was five.” He said painfully, voice trembling. “I was only a child. A child who had lost his mother, brothers and sister. I needed you. I needed my dad.”

He was five.

Five.

Five when his father first told him that he wished he was dead.

His father began to open his mouth but before he could say anything another round of coughs attacked Scorpius body. His breathing coming out ragged, he could hear his father’s cries as he gently cleaned him up, soothing him as much as he possibly could as he held him in his arms.

And Scorpius knows this is where he dies.

And he’s gasping for breath and his father can only hold him, softly whispering that he’s okay, that he would fix this. To only stay awake for a little longer, begging him and imploring the world to let his son live. To take him but not Scorpius.

“I deserve all of this.” His father sobs. “But not you. Not you. Never you. I love you. Merlin I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I was a bad father....I’m so sorry I treated you like that - after your mother died, after your brothers and your sister died I...” he can’t even finish his sentence closing his eyes and letting the tears fall. The pain being to much.

And now Scorpius is crying because in another life his mum would be alive. Serpens would be alive. Leo would be alive. Cygnus would be alive. Taurus would be alive. And they would be the House of Dragons. His life would be happy. His life would be perfect.

He would be home.

He wants to see the dragon again. Wants to see the dragon flying between constellations. Wants to hear his brothers fighting, wants to feel Taurus small strong feet kicking inside his mother’s womb.

He can hear his father yelling, can feel arms hugging his shoulders, his eyes can barely keep awake but he can make out his uncle Blaise’s form hovering over him. He’s yelling something at his father. He always did like his uncle Blaise. He was always protecting him from his father.

He can feel Al kneeling beside him. Whispering for him to please survive. Hands gripping his tightly.

They were brothers. Through life or death they would always be brothers. Scorpius tried to smile. To reassure him that everything would be fine. And even if he died he would wait for Al until they met again. Albus Severus Potter’s love for Scorpius was the only reason why Scorpius had survived this long. Al had carried his soul through thick and thin, through the deepest parts of hell to the highest points of the world. Their souls were tied. Woven together from before time had existed.

“Wake up, please wake up. I can’t loose you too.” His father cried.

He wondered what type of relationship he would have had with his siblings. Would it be the same type of relationship he had with Al? What type of men would his brothers have become if they had been given the opportunity to grow old? If they were alive today his triplet brothers would have been young men, they would be 22. Taurus would have had turned 19 a month ago. She would have already graduated from Hogwarts, and would be studying a career. What type of careers would they have? Would they have become Auror’s like him?

He remembered that Serpens would always follow him around, even though they were the ones who fought the most out of all his siblings. Serpens liked to throw him the vegetables that their mother would always force them to eat. Green peas were his favorite ammunition. They had the best velocity. His mum once caught him in mid throw and made him hug Scorpius as an apology. It was suppose to be a bonding experience but it felt like punishment to Scorpius, and he fought with his mum that day, he did not understand why he had to be punished if he was the victim of the whole situation.

He remembered that Leo was the daredevil. Never thought of his actions and would get all of them in trouble. He would always convince the rest of his brothers to climb the big oak tree in their backyard, they would play a game to see who could climb the highest. They would always get stuck, could never get down once they had made it to the top. Their mother would find them and would yell at them. Her stomach round with Taurus as she yelled that once their father got home he would climb the tree and would bring them all down, warning them that once they were in the ground they would be immediately punished.

She would screech at them to stand still, scared that they would fall. Minutes later his father would arrive, smiling and laughing at seeing them stuck, while his mother fumed with anger.

“Do not laugh you bloody ferret!” His mother would say, “you’re only encouraging them!”

He never did understand why his mum would call his dad a ferret whenever she was mad. He never did ask.

Her nerves would be in high alert as their father brought each one of of them down with his broom. Her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt as she yelled at his father to be careful.

He remembered Cygnus was quieter, more reserved than the rest of his brothers. Scorpius liked Cygnus the best. While the rest of his brothers had the same complexion as Scorpius, silver eyes, white blonde hair, pale skin. Cygnus was the one who looked the most like their mum. He still had the trademark Malfoy hair and eyes but his skin was tan like their mother’s, his face softer to look at. And his disposition was more of the type to be inside snuggled against their mum’s arms, listening to their mum read, instead of the type to be rolling around in the mud with Serpens and Leo outside.

He wondered if his father would have been more human if Cygnus would have lived instead of him. If his father had a son by his side who looked like the woman he supposedly loved instead of a smaller replica of himself.

He remembered the first time his parents told them that they were going to have a sister. The face of relief that his mother wore at knowing that she would have a girl instead of another boy. Now that Scorpius was grown he felt pity for his mother knowing that she had to live with five Malfoy men.

A jolt of electricity jolted him awake.

Scorpius was once pushed into the black lake by one of the older Gryffindor bullies in fourth year. He thought he was going to die. Panic started to set in when he couldn’t untie his arms to swim to safety. His lungs started to burn and he knew that he was going to open his mouth, but he couldn’t because that would mean death.

That’s what he felt like right now. His mind was telling him to breathe, but his lungs were failing him and as much as he tried, he couldn’t. He couldn’t open his mouth. A burning sensation started to cover his body.

He could hear his father as he yelled. Screaming at everyone to hurry. His arms protectively shielding him from the world.

But through the pain he had to ask. Had to know. “Will it hurt?” He asked, mouth full of blood.

“Will what hurt?” His fathers anguished voice replied.

“Dying. Will it hurt?”

A sob escaped his fathers lips, tears running through his face, warm lips touched Scorpius forehead. “No. Absolutely not. It’s just like sleeping...just like sleeping.”

But it didn’t feel like sleeping. There were no words, no synonyms, no books, nor songs that could describe the pain he was feeling. The emotions that he felt.

He was dying. In some minutes he would be dead and these were his last minutes.

“Dad,” he grips his fathers arm desperately, gasping for breath. His body not knowing the difference between drowning by ones own blood and drowning by water, his body unconsciously trying to find a lifeline that could pull him up and bring him above water. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

His father grabs his side trying to help him with the weight, crying because he does not know how to help him.

“LUNA!!!” His father screams.

“I NEED FOUR MINUTES. JUST FOUR MORE MINUTES!!”

“WE DON’T HAVE FOUR MINUTES!!” He hears Mrs.Potter scream back. “DEMENTORS ARE APPROACHING!!”

He hears Mr.Weasley’s voice now. His father always hated the red headed man. “How much longer do you think we have?”

“A minute.” Mrs.Potter replies

“I can’t fix the time turner in one minute!”

“I’m not asking you to fix it in one minute Luna.” Mrs. Potter whispers. Voice resigned. “I’m going to give you the extra minutes you need.”

And their fighting. Something is happening but Scorpius cannot keep his eyes open nor his thoughts straight to know what’s happening around him. And his father is hugging him telling him he loves him. Telling him he always loved him. And the Potter children are screaming. Mrs. Potter is yelling at Teddy to hold the girls back. And they’re crying. Crying about something that is happening.

“Tell your mum I love her. Tell her that she was the best thing that ever happened to me. Tell her I’m sorry.” His father whispers. “Tell Serpens, Leo, Cygnus, and Taurus that I never forgot them. I never stopped loving them.”

And his fathers arms aren’t around him anymore. Instead he can feel Al’s arms holding him now.

And memories start to attack him. A warm smile. Albus extending his hand out to him.

The memories flash in rapid manner, like pictures going high speed.

Rose’s red hair blowing in the wind as she sat outside his room’s balcony. A Raspberry cupcake on top of a tombstone. His godfather telling him that if he ever needed a place to stay he could stay with him. “Your mother was there for me when no one else was.” He had said. His grandmothers heels clicking on the wooden floor as she came to check on him at night. A tree on top of a hill.

A dragon flying between constellations.

And he hears arguing, the twins of Lovegood are yelling, crying, “you told dad you were going to run.” One of the twins cried.

“The time turner needs magic to work.” Her soft voice replied.

But magic does not exist anymore. Not for those opposed to the new order. The only way the time turner would work is if –   
  
He understands why they’re crying now.

He feels his life draining out of his body. He shouldn’t have been so scared of death, it feels like going to sleep, a deep sleep that overtakes his body that he cannot fight, from his hooded eyes he can see his skin turn pale like those corpses floating in the river.

He feels the presence of Al beside him, he can even hear his sobs. He couldn’t die in his mum’s arms but dying with Al embracing him is a slight comfort.

He opens his eyes, using the last of his energy to see Al, he has one arm around Scorpius and the other around his red headed sister. They’re all staring at the window where the Patronus of a Lioness has emerged.

Now he understands why they’re all crying.

He does not want to see the last sacrifice of Mrs.Potter, does not want to intrude in such a private matter as the Potter children wrap each other in a giant embrace. He turns instead towards the missing piece of ceiling. And he begins to weep because there’s stars out tonight.

He can see the stars.

He can see constellations.

He imagines that they’re Serpens, Leo, Cygnus, and Taurus looking down at him telling him not to be afraid of death. A second does not even pass when the stars find a companion, a dragon appearing between them. A dragon he had not seen since he was small. A dragon that would usually follow his mums dragon around as they flew around his room. A dragon that he had forgotten. It’s wings majestic and regal, large and vast. It’s scales shinning underneath the moonlight as it flew high in the sky, breathing fire made of light into the hundreds of dementors that surrounded the building.

For a second Scorpius even believed that his father’s Patronus paused to observe him. “I do love you.” His father’s voice said inside his head. “I have always loved you. Survive son. Live.”

Later he will remember this memory. Remember his father’s words and his last sacrifice for him. But for now all that Scorpius can think about is that he got to see the dragon one last time.

He got to see the dragon flying between constellations.

Al pushes something into his fingers with a desperate need. “Together?” He asks barely above a whisper, shouts echoing in the background.

He can feel his body dying, can feel his numb cold fingers trying to hold on to Al, time turner between their hands.

“Always.”

* * *

Scorpius thought about death a lot growing up, when he became an Auror death just became a hazard of the occupation. His godfather always fretted whenever he was called for days on assignments. Scorpius secretly liked that he worried. Whenever he arrived home from long assignments his godfather always awaited him with a large dinner, smile on his face. Relief being shown as he spoke with Scorpius about his trip. He never liked the fact that Scorpius was an Auror, but had grown to accept it.

As much as Scorpius had thought about death he had never imagined death to feel so warm.

Warmth is the first thing he feels when he wakes, the kind of warmth he had not experienced for months. The comfort of a safe home and the bright sun overhead. The second thing he experiences is the peculiar smell, of herbs, potions, and ointments, a smell he remembered from years and years ago. A time when he would be hexed by older Gryffindor boys and would end up in the infirmary with Madam Pomfrey clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

But it’s the smell of Honeysuckle and vanilla that makes his eyes open.

The first thing he noticed was the brightness, he feels like he’s ten again and he’s going to vomit all over a random Wizard’s shoes in the market. But once his eyes adjust to the light the second thing he noticed was a girl.

A girl in Gryffindor robes standing beside his bed, her wild-unruly-brown hair covering her face as she hovered above him. Brown wide eyes staring down at him in panic and utter embarrassment, as if he had just caught her stealing. She looks away, cheeks burning, a blush appearing across her nose, making her already noticeable freckles seem more pronounced.

“I’m sorry I was just trying to adjust your pillow.” She points to where her fingers are still gripping the pillow underneath his head.

Scorpius freezes.

He knows that voice.

He has heard this voice in his dreams, mementos left behind from a time he had thought long forgotten. 

He had heard it read to him stories before he went to sleep. Heard it when it would echo through the walls of his childhood home as she yelled at his triplet brothers to stop running around, and for the mercy of Godric to stop bringing frogs into the house. Had heard this voice whisper to him countless of times “I love you” over and over again until he would fall asleep.

Had heard this voice as it sang him to sleep.

Had heard it promise him to always spend Sunday’s with him and his siblings. Had heard it read to him the story of Alice and her Patronus the rabbit.

She pulls her bushy hair behind her shoulders revealing more of her face. And he knows that face.

He knows this face.

He had thought he had forgotten, but he remembers.

She gives him a smile. The warm smile she was known for. The smile that promised to protect him forever. The smile that promised to keep him safe. The smile that promised that it would die for him.

And he feels safe.

He feels warm.

He feels loved.

She straightened her robes, squared her shoulders, extended her hand for a handshake, intelligent brown eyes full of determination. “I’m Hermione Granger, and you are?”

Scorpius was indeed wrong when he was young. One did not need magic to cry a pool of tears.

He felt a tear run down his cheek and then another.

He ignores her hand, going directly for a hug. Arms shaking, lips quivering, fingers trembling as they touch her for the first time in 19 years. He didn’t even introduce himself before starting to cry, embracing the confused curly haired Gryffindor. Tears dampening her robes. He was a 24 year old man, but here he was behaving like a 5 year old again.

His father was right, she did smell of books and honeysuckle.

“Mum.” Scorpius Lucius Malfoy whispered.

Mum.

**Author's Note:**

> Up next is the chapter told through Hermiones POV. It is a Hermione story so the story will be told majority of the time through her eyes. Hope you like this chapter, let me know what you guys thought! And also I find it so peculiar that authors in the Harry Potter section never say what House they belong too. I’m a Ravenclaw. Comment down below what house you belong too, I’m really curious to know what house is the most popular.


End file.
